


guaranteed to blow your mind anytime

by colourinside



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Developing Relationship, Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 10:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19424086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourinside/pseuds/colourinside
Summary: Just a missing scene following the bomb, the church and the books.





	guaranteed to blow your mind anytime

The air was crisp when Aziraphale stumbled out of what was left of the church, careful not to fall over any lose bricks. He coughed a little from the ashen dust that was still snowing from the sky.

“Crowley!” he shouted, out of breath. He struggled to keep up, carrying the bookcase. Crowley’s pace was a lot faster with those long, skinny legs of his, it was as if he was in a hurry to get away.

“Crowley, wait!”

At a fair distance, he finally stopped and turned. Panting, Aziraphale came to a halt next to him.

“Wait...” he gasped for breath.

“What?” asked Crowley.

“Are you—” Aziraphale had to catch his breath, he lifted a finger and Crowley lifted an eyebrow and the eyebrow just slightly lifted his hat. He looked good in that hat.

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale straightened himself, looking inquiringly at Crowley. He looked at all of him from the tips of his sleek, black shoes to the top of his sleek, black hat. Crowley’s eyebrows were still raised.

“Yes, splendid, why wouldn’t I be?” Aziraphale couldn’t help but note that Crowley sounded a little uneasy, that he was fidgeting more than he usually did.

“Well,” said Aziraphale, he turned around and pointed at the shell of the destroyed church behind them before turning back. The falling bombs were still whistling around them.

“Well?” asked Crowley.

“Well,” Aziraphale repeated, “the church? Consecrated ground and all that? Doesn’t it make you—?”

“Nah, I’m _fine,”_ Crowley interrupted. “Just burns a little, it’s uncomfortable but that’s all. You know, like walking barefoot on hot stone.”

“Well, that’s—why did you come anyway?”

Crowley shrugged. “Tsk,” he said, “you were in trouble weren’t you? A simple _thank you_ would suffice, wouldn’t it?”

“Well, yes, thank you, but...”

“Uh-uh,” said Crowley, “No ‘buts’ accepted.”

This seemed to be the end of it, for Crowley turned to go. For a moment, Aziraphale stood frozen and watched him saunter away, probably to the Bentley that Aziraphale could see far off, waiting for him in the distance.

“Thank you,” he shouted after him.

“No need to thank me, angel,” said Crowley.

 _Angel._ Every time he called him that, nonchalantly, like an after-thought, it gave Aziraphale a sting. Not an unpleasant one – perhaps it was more of a nudge anyway. It was a warm feeling.

“Take care!” he shouted. He wasn’t sure whether Crowley had heard. Aziraphale saw him climb into his Bentley. The light went on, the engine roared to life, the tyres screeched. The car moved towards Aziraphale.

Crowley stopped next to him, the window was down.

“Wanna get in or what?” asked Crowley.

“I—” Aziraphale still stood there, as if frozen to the spot, struck dumb.

“Get in,” said Crowley, reaching over with his long arm to open the door. “Can’t have you walk home carrying all those books by yourself, now can I?”

Aziraphale gave an awkward laugh. “Why,” he said, “thank you. How kind.”

“Yes yes,” Crowley said.

Clumsily, Aziraphale got in the car and put the bag of books safely in his lap.

And they drove off into the crisp night air.


End file.
